


Aurora

by carolinablu85



Category: As the World Turns
Genre: Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:49:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinablu85/pseuds/carolinablu85
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This isn’t exactly how Luke imagined they’d see each other again, but he’ll take it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aurora

**Author's Note:**

> Written for The Hayloft's Holiday Gift Exchange on LJ (I am oh-so-slowly getting all my fics posted here!) based on the prompt _"I like semi-angsty fics where the conflict quickly turns to smut"_. And thus...this. Thanks for reading!

The buzz of his cell phone wakes him up. Again.   
  
Luke sighs and rolls over. He contemplates just silencing the damn thing and going back to sleep, but curiosity wins over yet again. He rolls again, towards his nightstand, and flips open his phone. “Hello?”   
  
And once again, no answer. No sound, but someone’s there. Luke can hear it. Instead of hanging up like he has the last three nights, Luke sits up in bed, keeping the phone pressed to his ear. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does the person on the other end. Just silence.   
  
Gradually, Luke begins to relax, weird as that is. The silence isn’t creepy, or oppressive, or anything it usually is for Luke. It’s comfortable, almost...   
  
Almost familiar.   
  
His eyes widen, and he grips the phone a little tighter. It’s familiar. “Noah?” he says quietly.   
  
The line immediately goes dead.   
  
***   
  
“All right, thank you,” Lucinda hangs up the phone slowly, eyeing Luke in front of her. “Well, the trace came through. I have a location for those calls you’ve been getting-”   
  
“From Noah,” he finishes impatiently. “Where is he? Why isn’t it his normal number?”   
  
Lucinda continues to stare him down, taking off her glasses. “Now, darling, are you sure you want to do this? For whatever reason, if it  _is_  Noah, it doesn’t seem like he wants you to-”   
  
“Then he shouldn’t be calling me like this,” Luke argues.   
  
Lucinda does that silent sigh again. “I don’t understand why you think it’s him, dear. I was under the impression that you two talk frequently without any... subterfuge, or whatever you think this is.”   
  
Luke can’t answer for a second. Because it’s true. He and Noah talk all the time, on the phone, through Skype and emails, even through letters and random, silly, for-no-reason postcards. Noah had been back to Oakdale twice, and Luke had been out to L.A. a few times.   
  
They’d gotten past the point of awkward re-aquaintances into friendship, and more recently into something more. Their last few ‘deep talks’ had been about relationships, and their relationship in particular. And the possibility for them to start over.   
  
Which is why this was pissing him off so much. “Where’s he calling me from?”   
  
Lucinda put her glasses back on, reading the notes she had just scribbled down. “If it  _is_  Noah, he’s staying in a hotel in Aurora.” She looked back up at Luke. “Illinois.”   
  
He stares back. “That’s, like, right between here and Chicago.”   
  
She hesitates for a fraction of a second, then nods. “Somewhat.”   
  
He takes a deep breath, reminding himself that he’s a logical, rational adult. “Okay.”   
  
***   
  
That whole ‘adult’ thing lasts through the walk to his car. Then it pretty much flies out the window, and Luke is driving north, Lucinda’s scribbled address sitting on his dashboard.  _This is not a wise decision_ , he tells himself.  _This is not smart. You should turn around. Go home. Call Noah. Make sure you’re not crazy right now. Because you are crazy._   
  
And yet he keeps driving. An hour and a half later, he’s pulling into the parking lot of a small, fairly nondescript hotel. One of those boring drab ones you pass on the highway without even realizing, it just blends into the scenery. Perfect for someone to escape notice too, right?   
  
It only takes a nice smile to get the desk clerk to give him Noah’s room number, and an extra fifty bucks to get a key. There’s no car parked in front of the room so he doesn’t bother knocking. He lets himself in quietly, but just like he thought- it’s empty. He looks around and for a second worries that it’s  _really_  empty, that Noah’s already gone.   
  
But no- there’s a suitcase in one corner. Definitely one big enough to hold four days of clothes. _Duh, hello, it’s Noah’s room_ , he reminds himself. Of course the bed is made neatly and there’s no trash on the table and no towels on the floor.   
  
Noah’s laptop- he knows it’s Noah’s, it has a frayed Oakdale University sticker on it- is sitting on top of the nightstand. And maybe, just as he’s about to reach for it, the door swings open.   
  
And Noah walks in.   
  
***   
  
The first thing Luke sees is that Noah looks exhausted. In that way he used to when he was stressed about school and work and not getting sleep. He looks worn down. He also looks beautiful, effortlessly so. And he stops in his tracks when he sees Luke sitting on the bed.   
  
Then he shakes his head, gives that smile that looks like it hurts to make, and closes the door. “I’m actually not surprised,” his voice is just a little hoarse. “Did Jack trace the calls or something? Lucinda?”   
  
“What the hell, Noah?” Luke bursts out. “What is this? You’re in town but don’t want to see anyone? You’re hiding? What is it? And hanging up on me? What...?” he shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?” He hates that his voice cracks just a little on the last word. “Why are you here?”   
  
Noah takes off his jacket, drapes it over the back of the chair as he sits down. “This is the closest hotel I could get.”   
  
“Closest to what?” Luke crosses his arms, not falling for it. “To Oakdale? Because it’s not. Remember who owns the Lakeview? And it’s not like the Wagon Wheel is ever-”   
  
“Closest to Statesville.” Noah looks at him, then looks away.   
  
Luke’s jaw snaps shut.  _Oh._  “Your father,” is all he can think of to say.   
  
Noah nods. “He had a heart attack last week, and it just got worse or they couldn’t fix him or... I don’t know. He’s dying, so,” he shrugs. “I don’t...” he doesn’t finish. Luke doesn’t even know what he was going to say. Noah probably doesn’t either.   
  
“You called me from here. Every night?” he asks quietly. Noah nods. “Why didn’t you say anything?”   
  
Noah really looks at him now, and he’s tired and sheepish and just a little embarrassed, and if it weren’t for the circumstances that look would make Luke smile. “I needed to hear you,” he says, like it’s that simple. “I needed help, but I didn’t know with what, and I needed you, but I didn’t know how, so... I just wanted to hear your voice.”   
  
“You could have-”   
  
“There are lots of things I could’ve done, Luke,” Noah’s kind-of-but-not-really smiling again. “But it took me five days just to get myself out here from California. I wasn’t sure I could take that extra step of talking to you.”   
  
“But you still-”   
  
“I just needed to hear you, just for a second. Even if you were pissed off, it just... it helps,” Noah shrugs again. His fingers fiddle in his lap, pulling at the end of his flannel shirt. “Sorry,” he adds, and it takes Luke a second to realize he’s apologizing for interrupting.   
  
He does smile then, just a little. “So what’s happening with your dad?”   
  
“It’s only a matter of hours, they said. He signed a DNR years ago, he doesn’t want to go on life support. It’ll all be over soon.”   
  
He’s so calm and quiet, like this isn’t a huge deal. “Noah, it may seem strange, but I really am sorry that-”   
  
“No, Luke, you don’t have to,” he looks up again, offers another smile. “I’m okay. Really. It’s time for all of that to be over, you know? I’ve made peace with it.”   
  
Except this isn’t something you just ‘make peace with’ after a few days. “Baby, it’s okay to be upset.” He scoots closer, still sitting on the bed, but so their knees are almost touching. “He’s your father.”   
  
“He won’t be in a few hours,” Noah says firmly. He knots his fingers tighter into his shirt. “So it doesn’t matter.”   
  
“It  _does_  matter,” he insists. “It does. And one of the things I love about you is that you always care. You never let people go.”   
  
Noah looks up, eyes bloodshot and blinking. “I’m letting  _him_  go.”   
  
Luke studies him for a second, then leans up and in, hands lightly around his face. “Hey.” He kisses him, sweet, soft, not fast or slow. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out. Another kiss, up the side of Noah’s face to his hair. “I wish you had told me.”   
  
“I didn’t want you to have to help,” Noah’s eyes are closed. “I didn’t want you to think of me as just another project that needs fixing. Again.”   
  
“What?” Luke pulls back from kissing him.   
  
“Luke, if you’re going to be with me- in  _any_  way, it’s going to be just because you-”   
  
Luke shuts him up for a few seconds, taking his time, hoping that the longer he can keep Noah’s lips on his, the less they’ll say something stupid and heartbreaking. Because Noah’s always been so good at that. He pulls back from the long embrace just enough to pepper a few quick kisses across Noah’s face, then sits back on the bed again. “Can I tell you something?”   
  
“Yeah,” Noah frowns a little, worried, moving to sit next to Luke on the bed.   
  
“I have this folder in my email. It’s full of drafts and half-finished letters to you. There’s probably fifty or sixty of them.” He smiles when Noah’s hand works its way into his. Squeezing, “I like writing them because you always listen to me when I talk. I miss that.” He turns, smiles, barely hesitates before running his free hand over Noah’s hair.   
  
“Me too,” Noah admits. “I miss hearing you whine,” he grins, finally finally.   
  
Luke smacks his shoulder. “So maybe this, all of this, means we still need each other. And there’s nothing wrong with that, there’s nothing wrong with needing me.”   
  
“It’s not about right or wrong, Luke,” Noah says. Their fingers are still criss-crossed together, and his other hand runs along the links. “It’s that, okay, I was a mess before I was with you. And I was mess after I left you. For too long. Until I figured it out. That if you were going to ever come back to me, what good would it be- would  _I_  be- if I was still wallowing and pathetic, you know?”   
  
“Yeah, I know.” And he does. He had been feeling the same way about himself.   
  
“And then this happens?” Noah shakes his head. “I wanted to prove to myself, not you or the Colonel or anyone, but to me. That I could handle this.” He captures Luke’s pinky between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it idly. “And maybe I can’t, because I still ended up calling you.”   
  
“And maybe you’re a dummy,” he points out. “Because I’m glad you called. Maybe you could’ve actually said  _hi_  or something, but I’m glad.”   
  
Noah snorts a quiet laugh and, instead of arguing the name-calling or teasing right back, he touches Luke’s chin, pulls him close, and kisses him. And maybe it’s supposed to be sweet, maybe it starts out that way, but it’s also Noah. And him. And Noah-and-him, and he can’t fight that. He turns his whole body in, fitting them together like linked fingers.   
  
As the kisses get deeper, Noah’s hands still framing his face and the back of his head, Luke pushes and pushes, getting his own hands closer, his leg curling around Noah’s lap. And Noah yanks him closer, pulling until his back is flat against the headboard and Luke is against his chest and everything is perfect.   
  
His knees are nudging either side of Noah’s hips, and he pulls back for just a second, just enough to see Noah’s eyes. Noah opens them at the same time, and he answers Luke’s questions before they’re asked.  _Yes. I want everything, anything, you._  “Luke.”   
  
And that’s what he needs to see and hear. Luke surges forward again, straddling his thighs, hands heavy on his chest, yanking at his shirt. Noah is moving just as fast, pulling Luke’s sweater away, tearing at his belt. Luke eases up into a kneel long enough for him to push his jeans and boxers down off his hips, and long enough for Noah’s pants and boxer-briefs to disappear too.   
  
He slides back onto Noah’s lap, skin against skin, their mouths meeting for just a minute before Noah’s lips travel farther, cutting a trail down Luke’s neck to his shoulder, tracing his collarbone. Luke takes the moment to flail for his wallet and the condom and lube he prays to God are still in there. Sure, it takes a little bit longer to get them with Noah’s tongue being rather distracting across his chest, but he finds them soon enough.   
  
The thing about the two of them is that they take care of each other. That’s what they do, what they’ve always done. For everything. For this, too. Luke rolls the condom slowly, hopefully just a little too slowly, down onto Noah’s cock, slicking it with lube, even as Noah is preparing him, stretching him. Taking care of him.   
  
When they’re both ready, Noah grasps Luke’s hips and urges him forward, and Luke knows what he wants. He reaches out and holds on tight to the headboard behind Noah and allows Noah to guide him down, inch by inch, until Noah fills him completely. Then, just because he can, he kisses the tip of Noah’s nose. “Noah.”   
  
It’s all Noah needs to hear, too. He holds tight to Luke’s hips, keeps him in place, and starts thrusting up into him, slow pace at first, just brushing against his prostate, just enough, then harder. Deeper. Luke grunts and moans with the effort to not shove himself down. But more than that, he wants to do this for Noah. So he doesn’t take control. He gives it to Noah.   
  
And Noah takes it.   
  
His hands keep Luke steady ( _hasn’t he always?_ ), and he holds Luke at that perfect angle, that perfect stroke, until Luke’s knuckles are beyond white around the headboard. Noah’s eyes are closed, his grip gets tighter and tighter. There’s a sheen of sweat on his upper lip, and Luke gives into the temptation to lean in and lick it away, and he stays there against Noah’s mouth, bearing down, swallowing Noah’s almost-yell as he lets go.   
  
Noah sags forward just a little, just for a second, but then he’s looking at Luke again. One of his hands slides from a hip to Luke’s back holding him there, and the other moves to Luke’s cock, stroking roughly, perfectly. Luke is coming what seems like a few seconds later, and he finally releases the headboard with what’s left of his strength, forehead resting against Noah’s.   
  
They breathe in tandem, harsh and heaving for a moment, until Noah gently braces Luke again, helps him pull off and together they end up lying down, facing each other, Luke kicking away his jeans still trapped around his ankles. He tries to clean them up as best he can, lazily wiping the end of the bed sheet across Noah’s stomach.   
  
He leans his head on the same pillow as Noah, smiling when Noah blinks heavily, trying to focus on him. “I love you,” he whispers. He can’t say it louder. He’s still not sure what it means, but he knows it means a lot. And he knows he’s not letting this go.   
  
Noah’s eyes close, but he’s still awake. He smiles a little, and Luke’s pretty sure he’s about to hear one of those ‘same heres’ Noah likes to tease Luke with.   
  
But he doesn’t. Instead Noah’s hand reaches out and finds Luke’s arm, runs down it until their fingers close in on each other. Linked once again. “I love you too.”   
  
***   
  
He’s sitting on the edge of the bed once more, watching Noah. “I’m not sure this is a good idea.”   
  
Noah smiles, pulling on his jacket. “It’s not. But I have to.”   
  
“You’re about to go watch your father die. That’s not... I don’t think you should go. At least not alone.”   
  
“No way,” Noah stops him. “I’m going because I have to. I have to see it, it has to be real this time. Okay? But I promise,” he leans in and kisses Luke lightly. “I want you here when I get back. And when I do, we can talk and hold hands and share our feelings and whatever else you want. Promise.”   
  
“Jerk,” Luke grins, grabs his shirt collar to haul him back in for another kiss. “You’re gonna owe me more than that. Lucinda’s probably expecting us for dinner tonight.”   
  
Noah smiles sweetly down at him. “Then I’ll be back as soon as I can.”   
  
Luke follows that smile off the bed and to the door, hanging onto the frame as Noah walks out. “Will you call me as soon as it’s done? As soon as you can?”   
  
“I will,” Noah says, fiddling with his keys   
  
“Promise,” Luke insists.   
  
“I promise,” Noah crosses his heart.   
  
“And not one of these calls you’ve been doing lately,” he warns.   
  
Noah half rolls his eyes, smile still in place. “I’ll say hi this time.”   
  
He crosses his arms, scowling. “You’ll do more than that.”   
  
And suddenly Noah’s back in front of him, regarding him seriously, cupping the side of his face. “Yeah. I will.” And he seals the promise with a kiss.


End file.
